Friday, June 14, 2013

This visit I threaded my way through rooms of European
decorative furnishings, Greek and Roman statuary, and Medieval paintings to an
obscure elevator that took me to the roof garden and cafe.

Imran Qureshi-floor painting acrylic on stone

Pakistani miniaturist and installation artist Imran Qureshi is
the guest artist this summer/fall on the rooftop space.

I was shocked to experience the flatness of this floor
piece. I expected another huge intertwining sculpture, like the Roxy Paine stainless
steel, rootish extravaganza “Maelstrom” from 2009 that crawled all over the roof.

Roxie Paine-Maelstrum, 2009

Instead, the area was wide open, but not quiet. I had to
draw my eyes down, away from the clear-day panorama of NYC, to a bloody
splatter-painting of carnage, sprouting swirls of delicate foliage blooming from
the gore.

Imran Quereshi-detail of floor painting

Imran Quereshi-detail

I loved it. It was political
and poetic with a miniaturist’s sensibility, bringing to America the terrorism
rampant in Qureshi’s native Pakistan, while reminding me of our own terror
attacks in Boston and our epidemic of mass shootings.This space required some time to meditate on
the clash of natural beauty, cruelty and hope.

Anna Mendieta-Untitled from the Sandwoman series1983

Right off the elevator, down to the first floor in a hallway, I found the
small show of earthwork photos entitled “Land Marks”-mostly documentations of
outdoor artist interventions using the body+an idea+the ground. Mendieta above expresses her earthly feminism in sand.

According to the wall text, Kiefer below believes there is no one theory for all. Here he draws himself under a blue bubble expiating for the WW2 sins of his German culture and relating his action to the motherland.

Anselm Kieffer-Everyone Stands Under His Own Dome of Heaven, 1970

Matthew Brandt-Mary's Lake, MT-C-Print with random color created from immersions in the lake water, 2012

Richard Long-County Cork, an ephemeral piece created by his own body walking repeatedly on the land, 1967

My own recent earthwork, “The Hole” was a similar attempt last
summer to project the impermanent self within the ostensible
permanence of the land–a desire in my case for immortality, but realizing my
momentary place in time and space.

On the Mezzanine level I discovered a few modern and
contemporary paintings from the Met’s own collection. Two similar abstract
pieces thrilled me with their layering of stroke, paint and color. In the first case,
Terry Winters' paint marks are red and exuberant like a dark sun burst.

Terry Winters-Light Source Directions, 1997

In the latter painting by Lethbridge, I imagine a cool, raucous, bird’s eye view of a tangle of tree branches covered in ice and
snow. (Grandson Roman called them scribble pictures!)

Julian Lethbridge-Untitled, 2003-4

Last stop, a small show of early abstractions from the
Metropolitan’s collection of Paul Klee paintings, mostly on paper from the
1920’s. I was again transported to a singular environment, and an artist’s
vision. The one-room exhibition was dimly lit in yellowish light. Each piece
was a small world of the imagination–little treasures of the eye and mind, based on a trip he took to Hammamet in Tunisia.

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Meet my daughter Semra who’s a musician and the development director at the Brooklyn School of Music, and my grandson Roman on his way to pre-K. NYC schools end the year on June 26th. I’m here for a week.

I arrived Tuesday and miraculously squeezed the Scion into a
teeny parking space in front of my daughter’s apartment. Mon Dieu-this is news!
I emptied the car of all items to preclude any possible break-ins. Last year
someone got into my car and spread my art supplies around searching for
valuables. “This is Brooklyn, if you know what I mean”, a neighbor told
me as I piled my stuff on the brownstone (whitestone) porch and proceeded to
lug them upstairs. He helped me part of the way. He meant I should watch my
things.

Grandma and Roman at home in a nose-prominent i-phone pic

I’m playing grandma, listening to Roman,

Roman playing his kid drum kit with Etta James in awe

following him
around,

Roman with bored face on the mechanical plane that does not work-

DeKalb Ave. Bklyn

slow-walking home from the music school,

Roman head-banging on a sycamore near Ft. Greene Park, Brooklyn

learning about Power Rangers
and Ironman,

Roman's Ironman in a cone St.Felix St., Brooklyn NY

watching his hip hop dance class rehearsal for the big recital show
on Saturday,

Roman peeking from wings at Ninja Dancers Bklyn School of Music rehearsal

Link here and here to Roman's 2 hip hop dance numbers in a not so organized little kid troupe rehearsal without costumes. He's the short guy on the left at the start of each dance in a plain tee shirt, before all the rolling around on stage.

I’ll close with i-phone snapshots of "crossings" on the drive to
Brooklyn-glorious land of diversity, creativity, public singing, garbage and
forever honking cars.

I crossed the border into North Carolina near Otto about 10
AM. It was a cool day of magnificent cloud formations and threatening storms up
and down the Smokey Mountain highways.

Great Smokey Mtn Highway in the morning near Ashville.

The overcast sky was easy on the eyes.
Only a few sprinkles materialized. Arrived in Raleigh at the home of artists
and designers Ann Cowperthwaite and Mike Parker, owners of Eidolon Designs-the
place to go for fine interior millwork.

Ann Cowperthwaite-storm approaching-Raleigh NC

We sat on their front deck watching a storm break after
dark, while Etta used her nose like a shovel to bury a rawhide “bone”
compliments of Ann.

Monday June 10th- On the road around 9am. Made it
to a Super 8 (not so great) motel just off i-95 in New Castle Delaware by 5pm.

It was a day of constant downpours, big trucks throwing up
blinding tire spray, and less than speed limit patches of drenched highway. Ate
a sandwich from my cooler in a hurry under a roadside picnic table during a
brief lull in the rain. Dark gray-blue

clouds approaching. Tolls and tunnels
throughout the day. Snapped unsafe pictures on my iphone of the road and the
weather around this little boat of myself.

Big Storm Brewing Near Petersburg, VA

Another Storm Churning Up-Baltimore in the Distance

Crossing through the Slippery Harbor Tunnel in Baltimore under the Patapsco River

More Rain Near DC on i-95

Cars and Trucks Splash Road Rain Somewhere on i-95

Crossing into Delaware in the Rain on i-95

I could only find fast food for dinner. Bought a bottle of wine and some chocolate at a shopping center. I crashed and slept
really well, with the AC in the room blasting out white noise against the roar
of traffic outside.

The car is packed and Etta James pooch and I are on the journey to the Green
Mountains, land of my childhood and Irish relatives. My heart leaps.

Miss Gabby Garmin GPS is updated, retrofitted with a pinky
drive full of the latest 2013 North America maps. She is my windshield
sidekick.

My lifeblood-I do whatever the GPS tells me

Saturday June 8: First leg of the trip. Cool overcast drive
to The Hambidge Center in the North Georgia mountain town of Rabun Gap. It’s the
closing reception for the show “Fables of the Eco-Future”, curated by the
amazing Lisa Alembik. I’m in front of my drawings and photos of the hole I dug
last summer in West Rutland Vermont, talking a little about that personal
landscape of fullness and emptiness, the process of delving into the self, and
the connection it engendered with something bigger.

Talking about my Vermont earthwork at Hambidge Show "Fables of the Eco-Future

I spent the night at the peaceful, paradise land and home of
artists Lyn and Laurence Holden located off War Woman Road in Clayton
Georgia, a few miles from Hambidge. A river runs by their front porch, the
birds are quiet, a distant car from an unseen road thumps rhythms through the dark green silence of
approaching dusk.

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Welcome

Welcome to my blog. The Interwoven Heart is an artist's search for meaning in the face of death. I am turning the gaze beneath appearances in an attempt to discover the nature of self, being and non-being. My hope is for transformation. My current paintings, drawings, earthworks and performances are visual explorations of this journey. Join me in sharing ideas, images and insights along the way.

Cecelia Kane becoming an ancient maple

Counting the Eyes on the Cosmic Heart

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Cecelia Kane - Art and Performance Portfolios

About Me

I am a visual and performance artist on a spiritual path. I'm a mother and grandmother. My work is the manifestation of my search for self-definition and meaning in the face of death.
Lately I’ve been exploring the nature of being and existence in paintings and drawings that imagine Love as a multi-layered, interconnected cosmic essence inhabited by hearts, wings, eyes, plants and patterns. It is a search for God. Obsession, repetition and daily record keeping often occur in my art making process. I use my own body, clothing, fabric work, video, performance, voice, sculpture, painting and drawing to explore the intersection of good and evil and the collision of loss and transformation.